Use Somebody

by Beck Anderson

  It actually feels good. This is what I do. I call the office, put my best assistant on getting the plane to Idaho Falls, and I call in all my doctor friend chips that I have in LA.

  Twenty-five minutes later, Macy Shea Summerlin has a private room on the fourth floor of Virginia Mason Hospital in Seattle waiting for her. The pulmonologist will be waiting to consult this evening. The plane should be in Idaho Falls by the time I get her and her little dogs out of this place and convince Andy to drive us all to the airport.

  And so now I have to call him. He texted to say they were headed out on to the river and should they wait for me. I told him no.

  He knows me. He knows none of what is going on is normal. He didn’t even ask about the rental car in the text.

  I call him.

  “Jeremy?” He answers before it even rings.

  “Andy.”

  “Is she okay? Is everything okay? Kelly called and wanted to know what the hell you were doing calling Joe at home. She’s worried sick, and she hasn’t even met Macy.”

  “Joe told me to go get her checked out. Said it could be bad. When she breathes, it doesn’t sound right.”

  “So you’re taking her into town?” I can hear his gear rattling. Maybe he waited for me to call. It sounds like he’s walking down to the river.

  I swallow hard. “I’m taking her to Seattle.”

  “What?”

  “Joe told me that’s the best. I Googled near-drowning. She could deteriorate rapidly. That’s what it said.”

  Andy covers the phone, and I can hear him calling out to somebody. Then he’s back on the line. “Come here and pick me up. I’ll take the two of you to Idaho Falls in the Yukon.”

  God love him. “Thank you, Andy. I really owe you one.”

  “No, you don’t. I trust Joe, and I trust your gut. Your instinct has never steered us wrong before. Take care of her.” He breathes in deep.

  He almost lost Kelly. Maybe the way I feel right now, maybe that’s how he felt then. Kelly was in danger, and he would have moved mountains for her.

  Maybe that’s how I feel right now. “I’ll get everyone loaded up and get over there. Thanks, buddy. And Andy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Can you keep a lid on this to the guys? I don’t need a lot of grief. I just want to make sure Macy’s okay. She doesn’t have anybody else to do that for her.”

  “I will. I promise to punch Todd in the face if he so much as makes one snarky comment.”

  I end the call and slip back in the front door. “Okay, troops, let’s get moving.”

  Macy shuffles out of the bedroom. “What?”

  “We’re on the move. Do the dogs have carriers?”

  She opens her eyes wide. “Like, now?”

  I nod. “Plane’s leaving in fifty minutes. Let’s hop to it.”

  She stands frozen. “I don’t know where to start. I need to pack, I need to call Richard and tell him I’m not going to be in town, I can’t go right now.”

  I put leashes on both the dogs, who’ve come to sit at my feet. They may be crazy, but they can hear the “we’re leaving” sound in my voice. I turn to Macy. “I will buy you anything you need when we get there. You can make calls from the car. Bring your purse and the charger for your phone, and you’re golden.”

  She shakes her head. “You’re unbelievable. I don’t need this. I’m fine.”

  On cue, she coughs, and there’s that loose penny rattle again.

  “Not fine enough for my liking.” I take the dogs by the leashes and lead them out the door. “I’ll be back to help you to the car in a minute,” I call over my shoulder.

  “Fine!” She calls after me.

  Andy waits on the front steps of our lodge when we pull up, and he doesn’t hesitate to hop in the SUV. I don’t even have to turn off the engine.

  He slides in the back seat, and immediately little dogs besiege him. “Hi, kids. I hear you’re going on a trip.”

  Macy dips her head. “Your friend here is crazy.”

  Andy arranges the dogs, one on each side of him, pats their heads. “He’s saner than usual. And it never hurts to play it safe in the major organs area.”

  I nod and look Macy in the eye. “You kind of have to breathe. It’s not optional. Even Andy knows that.”

  She sighs and sits back gingerly against the passenger seat. “Fine. You win.”

  We chat aimlessly for a while after that, mostly about the Toronto shoot that looms in the near future for Andy. I’m supposed to go with him to location next week. It’s the first time since we’ve been here that I’ve thought about it. And it makes my gut clench. There’s not enough time. I need more time before we go do that.

  Then we’re at the terminal, and I get out, and Andy helps me with the dogs and the one bag Macy crammed full of who knows what, and then I help Macy out of the car. I can hear the plane powering up, and I make a mental note that I’ll owe quite a few favors when I get back to LA.

  Macy and the dogs are slowly walking toward the tarmac. I turn to Andy, grateful for a minute to talk with him out of Macy’s earshot.

  “I can’t thank you enough.” I shake his hand, turn over the car keys.

  “J, I know how this is. When someone you love needs help, you do whatever it takes.”

  “Love. I don’t know about that.” I cough uncomfortably.

  He shrugs. “You’ve never behaved this way in the eleven years I’ve known you. If this is just how you treat river guides, I’ve been working at the wrong job.”

  He claps me on the back and gets in the car, waves as he pulls off the curb.

  I jog to catch up.

  Love.

  There’s no time to think like that. It’s ridiculous. I’ve known this person five days.

  This person who I am flying to Seattle.

  I shake it off and help her up the steps of the plane.

  “Wheels up in ten, Mr. King.” The pilot and the flight attendant stand at the front of the aisle.

  “Thanks. And thanks for being so responsive.”

  The pilot shakes my hand. “Our pleasure. Trisha here will get you settled and comfortable.”

  The dogs cry and whine at first, but Macy pulls out two new chew bones for them, and they curl up on either side of her legs and settle in for a good long chew.

  I sit next to her, and our shoulders touch.

  We take off without incident.

  The flight attendant takes a seat in the galley when she’s certain there’s nothing else she can do for us. I’m glad to have Macy to myself.

  “So?” I touch her gently on the hand.

  “So, what?” She looks at me, straight in the eyes. She hasn’t done that since she agreed to come with me to Seattle.

  “Is this going to be okay, me taking you to Seattle? You aren’t going to freak out and tell me to go drown and rot, are you?”

  “I was cruel once, and now you aren’t going to let me live it down.” She smiles. And she turns her hand over so that she’s holding my hand.

  “I promise I’ll leave you alone once I know that you’re okay.” I give her hand a little squeeze.

  “I hope not.” She yawns. “I think I’m just going to close my eyes.”

  “Okay.”

  She adjusts her seat a bit. “I guess now is when I tell you I’ve never been on a plane before.”

  I can’t believe this girl. “I’ve spoiled you for good. This isn’t the usual experience. Flying commercial isn’t at all like this—think Greyhound bus with wings.”

  “M-hm.” Her eyes are shut. She coughs a little bit, and my pulse revs up with worry.

  Then her head drifts to the side, and suddenly, she’s resting on my shoulder.

  And holding my hand.

  And I’m getting pretty damned used to it.

  We make quite a crew. The dogs are in absolute orbit until the excitement overtakes Justin Trudeau, and he passes out in the town car on the way to the hotel.

  “How is this going to wor
k? I’m staying here at the hotel?” Macy pets the little French bulldog and looks at the passing city blocks.

  “You stay where the doctors say. Right now we’re dropping the dogs off and driving to the hospital.”

  “They can’t be in a hotel room by themselves. They’ll tear it apart. You don’t want that kind of a bill on your hands, even if you are rich like you say.”

  She’s unbelievable. “You still don’t believe me. You think the plane was an elaborate con?” I think for a second and pull my sleeve up. “Look at my watch.”

  She takes my wrist in her hand, which I love the feel of, and examines the watch. “So?”

  “That’s a Rolex Cosmograph Daytona in 18 karat gold. It runs about twenty-nine grand.”

  “Wow.” She looks at it again for a minute. “That’d be a new car for me.”

  “I’m not saying it to impress you. I’m saying it so that you believe that I’m being straight with you. I like honesty. I’m honest with you.”

  She nods. “I get it. Mr. King is an honest man. A rich man, but an honest man.” She looks back out the window. Something has her quiet.

  “The dogs’ll be fine. I asked the concierge to get a dog walker to come play with them while we go to the hospital. We’re five blocks apart. Everyone will be fine.”

  She looks back at me. “Really?”

  “Here’s another thing about me—I handle details. I am all over the little stuff. My job demands that I do.” All this talk about me would usually give me a hard-on. I love when the topic of discussion is me. Except it just doesn’t feel right with Macy. Like we don’t need to talk so much. Or I don’t need to prove myself like I usually do. I don’t know. “Look at all the stuff you’ve learned about the mysterious world of Hollywood agents. You could come with me to LA tomorrow.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “If you weren’t so overprotective, you mean.”

  “Well, yeah.”

  We pull up in front of the W hotel, and Macy oohs and aahs.

  “Never been to Seattle, I take it.” I take her by the elbow, help her out of the car.

  “Never been out of Idaho. No, scratch that, I’ve been to Wyoming and Utah. Just over the state line fishing in Yellowstone for Wyoming, and to Bear Lake once camping in Utah. Also just over the border.”

  I wrap an arm around her. “I haven’t been to either of those places, so there you go. We both have more exploring to do.”

  She likes that I evened things out, I can tell—her shoulders straighten up a little. So much of the time she’s looking at the ground or rounding her shoulders in. She almost cowers. Like the little dogs, like she’s been hurt before. Physically hurt.

  How anyone could harm this girl, I don’t know…I drop that train of thought before it enrages me.

  We make our way into the hotel lobby.

  Macy looks all around, wandering into the bar and lounge area, as the concierge waits on me.

  It’s clear she’s still hurting, but she has a big broad smile on her face as she shuffles back over to me. “Have you seen all the hot pink chandeliers? This is my kind of place.”

  We meet the dog handler, and the concierge falls all over himself to get the dogs settled in the suite.

  “We’ll be back.” I call over my shoulder to him as I guide Macy back out the doors.

  “You’re in a hurry.” She seems reluctant to leave.

  “I’m in a hurry. The pulmonologist is waiting.” I pull the door of the waiting cab open for her and help tuck her inside.

  Inside, she shifts, trying to settle in comfortably. “Maybe your doctors can help me feel less sore.”

  “Did you take anything?” I think of Andy, when he was clipped by a car two years ago—he didn’t take pain meds, and the pain showed on his face. Macy looks like that now. My friends seem to get put through the ringer. Maybe it’s hanging out with me.

  Macy shrugs. “I don’t like that kind of stuff. I’ve seen too many people wrecked by it.”

  We’re at the front doors of the hospital, and they’re expecting us. An orderly, a big guy in scrubs, waits with a wheelchair as we pull into the turnaround.

  “Here we go.” I jump out and pay the cabbie, get around to the other side so I can help Macy into the chair.

  She eases into it, and I see her shoulders relax as she sits back. “Fun times.”

  Upstairs we wait in a very gray and very antiseptic lounge area. A nurse has given Macy pages and pages of paperwork to fill out. Macy scribbles for a while, and at the last page of forms, she starts to squirm and chew on the cap of the pen.

  Macy snaps the pen down on the clipboard. “We should just go.”

  “What?”

  “It’s asking about insurance. I don’t have health insurance. We should go.” She tries to stand up, and I put a hand on her arm, pull her back into the chair gently.

  “Hold up. One, it’s worker’s comp. You’re covered, insurance or no. Two, I’d cover you, and you could pay me back if it weren’t. Finish filling them out.”

  She gnaws through the pen cap by the time she finishes it. “Fine. Done.”

  “What’s with the pissy attitude? You’re covered.”

  “I don’t like all the personal questions. It’s just invasive. Too much.” Her hands cross her chest.

  The nurse comes back to usher her back to a room. “We’re ready for you, Miss Summerlin.”

  She stands up and takes a few steps, and then she turns back to me.

  “Well?”

  “What?” I don’t know what she needs.

  “You’re coming in with me. Come on.”

  I’m surprised. “You sure?”

  “You’re Mr. Details. I won’t remember everything they say, and then I’ll come out, and you’ll be all like ‘what did they say?’ and then I’ll feel dumb. And I want the rest of this trip to be fun. So come on.”

  I hop up and follow. “Good thought. I’ll take notes on my phone.”

  “Good job, Sherlock. Way to be thorough.”

  In the exam room, I turn my back for Macy to slip on one of those disposable exam gowns. She’s still got on her black yoga pants. Her hair is pulled back, like she wears it when she’s fishing. She’s not wearing make-up, not that I can tell.

  She looks down at the gown and picks at the hem of it, tearing little notches into its paper.

  She’s gorgeous.

  The doctor strides in, puts out a hand, all smiles. She’s got bright blonde hair all pulled up on the top of her head, and she’s got curves. A knock-out pulmonologist.

  “Dr. Kathleen Kirkland. Macy?” She shakes Macy’s hand.

  Macy points at me. “This is my friend Mr. King. He’s the scribe. He’s also supposed to ask the good questions. Doctors make me nervous.”

  Dr. Kirkland smiles. “Big job. Nice to meet you.” She shakes and pulls a chart, points at my phone. “It’s going to be a minute before we go there, but I’ll give you the sign.”

  Twenty minutes later, Macy’s been wheeled down a long, white hall, off to imaging and labs for work-ups. After a long listen to Macy’s lungs with her stethoscope, Dr. Kirkland seems mostly satisfied with what she hears, but she also pays me the favor of humoring my first person account of what Macy looked like fresh out of the water, and how she’s sounded since.

  I pace in the waiting room. I take a minute to look through work e-mails, and it takes all of two e-mails about the latest contract wrangling with Amanda the crazy movie star to convince me to shut off my phone.

  Usually that’s the kind of contract fight that gets my blood up, but right now, it feels like so much petty bullshit.

  Here, where I am right now, we’re talking life and death, and we’re talking about taking care of each other. I like the way that feels.

  Dr. Kirkland comes back down the hall. In any other situation, this would be a woman whose number I would get. Successful doctor with a body like that? I’d be all over her, literally and figuratively.

  Right now, though, I want in
fo on Macy.

  “Macy said it’s okay if I fill you in, as long as you pay good attention.” She smiles.

  “She’s kind of bossy. I’m just doing what I’m told.” I pull out my phone and prepare to be attentive.

  “Seems like that’s a role reversal for you.” She raises an eyebrow. Of course she probably knows who I am. I called in a very big favor from a very big name in LA to get her to consult on Macy’s case. We’re in a hospital at four in the afternoon on a Friday. Not usual doctor territory.

  “Everything about this situation is upside down, I’m not gonna lie.”

  Dr. Kirkland looks at the chart. “So here’s the long and short of it. No aspiration damage. It’s definitely possible that she did take some water into her lungs. The length of time her brain was without oxygen, that can be a concern, but the water temperature induces a shock state that probably inhibited that response. So pneumonia is your main concern, and if she takes it easy for a few days, she should be in the clear.”

  “What do you prescribe?”

  “I’d watch her, keep her in Seattle, nearby, maybe overnight, maybe two days. You could go back on Sunday. I’m on call for the weekend.”

  “She wants to see the Space Needle,” I say.

  “Let her. Don’t let her do a lot of walking. She got pretty banged up, and I wrote a scrip for an anti-inflammatory and an antibiotic, the first one to help work all that swelling and hematoma out of her system and the other in case she did take bacteria into her lungs with the water.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Kirkland. I owe you.”

  “Not to worry. This is what I do. She’s a lucky girl.”

  I nod. “Yeah, it could’ve been bad.”

  “She’s lucky for that, and for your vigilance. Never hurts to have someone watching out for you.” She smiles and shakes my hand, and just like that, I’m free to take Macy to the hotel.

  To. The. Hotel.

  And so my mind gets to thinking, but I remind that side of me that she’s bruised and beat up, remind myself to knock it off.

  So I do. Which is not easy.

  At the hotel, we get in the elevator with keys in hand and a full report from the dog handler, who met us in the lobby with the dogs. The dogs seem happy but tired. Little JT’s tongue hangs almost to the floor.